Strange Angel
by Epona Angel
Summary: Eric in the aftermath of the fire tries to live a quiet life, but fate intervenes.  A woman gets a second chance at life.  Can these two tragic figures overcome their tortured pasts to create a new future?  Rated M for future chapters...and I'm paranoid
1. Chapter 1

_Angelina had been married to Andrew for thirteen years. During that time their life began to slowly spiral out of control. Andrew suffered from bipolar disease and frequently became violent and obsessive. It came on slowly and insidiously, poisoning their relationship and stripping Angelina of her very soul. Worse yet, Andrew would often refuse to take his medication which would send him deeper into the depths of madness. She knew that she couldn't continue to live this way for much longer. Eventually he would completely lose control and kill her. His anger had beensteadily escalating to the point where he would throw things at her and rage at her until she curled up into the fetal position on the floor begging for mercy. After one such encounter she decided that she had taken enough of his abuse. She waited until she heard him lock himself into his bedroom, and as silently as she could, she slipped from the house. Once outside she put her car into neutral and pushed it down the driveway to the street before starting the engine. Whether it was the crunching of gravel or the sound of the engine coming to life that alerted Andrew to her plan, she would never know. Suddenly ,she looked to the rearview mirror and saw the image of his truck bearing down on her._

_It was now a matter of running for her life, hyperventilating at the thought that this time he really meant to finish her off. He began to taunt her by accelerating up to her bumper and then backing off again and again. Her little 4 cylinder car was no match for his truck and she couldn't keep ahead of him no matter how hard she stomped on the gas pedal. Andrew pulled up along side her as an oil truck bore down in the opposite direction. She had nowhere to go and he wasn't backing down. To avoid a collision with the oil truck she swerved off the road at 60 mph._

_ Angelina was going much too fast to avoid the tree that loomed in front of her. The force of the impact on the little Toyota drove the engine into the front cabin, pinning her lower body in the process. Fortunately the airbag deployed otherwise her head would have gone through the windshield likely resulting in decapitation. Bleeding internally, severely battered and in intense pain Angelina mercifully slipped into unconsciousness._

It had been four years since the angry mob had crashed into Eric's lair intent on hunting down and exterminating the "beast" responsible for countless murders and the fire that destroyed the opera house. Eric narrowly managed to escape through a tunnel that was hidden behind the mirror he smashed when Christine betrayed and left him forher young lover. At his request, two weeks after the fire Madame Giry had placed an obituary in the paper declaring "The Opera Ghost Is Dead" . In the ensuing months, Eric was able to build another home for himself underground without risk of discovery. There were many tunnels and catacombs under the city that he alone knew about, and these comprised his private empire. Moving quickly, he worked his way through this subterranean network with his mind bent on retrieving the few possessions remaining intact in his original lair. Complete darkness surrounded him as the sound of dripping water and his ragged breathing filled his ears. Suddenly, his right foot came in contact with a large unyielding obstruction in his path. He was sent sprawling as his momentum was suddenly halted. A soft moan caught his attention and Eric snapped his head up, listening intently.

"Help me, please"

He reached over to find what had caused him to trip and felt a living human form lying prostrate on the ground.

"Who are you? How did you come to be here?" he queried.

On closer inspection he could see the outline of a woman, barely breathing, blood issuing from her nose and the corners of her mouth. He bent nearer and gently pressed his index and middle fingers under her jaw. Her pulse was thready, no doubt she was slipping into shock. He should just leave her here, surely there was nothing he could do for her. Death would be a blessing for this poor creature. But where had she come from? No one knew about these passageways. In all the years spent underground never before had he allowed another soul down this far. He never had shared this secret with Madame Giry or even Christine for that matter!

Suddenly the mysterious woman reached her hand towards Eric in a desperate act ofsupplication.

"Just kill me. please!" she managed to gasp before losing consciousness once again.

He weighed the options for a moment and slowly exhaled. Her plea struck a chord deep within his tortured soul. He reached over after a few moments and against his better judgement, gently scooped the petite form into his arms. He cradled her body in his arms as one cradles an infant.

"Your blood will not be on my hands tonight Madame."

_The paramedics arrived to find Angelina broken and unconscious, barely alive at all. Andrew had long since fled the scene leaving his wife to die. It took the jaws of life to extricate her badly mangled body from the wreckage. She was loaded onto a gurney and into the waiting ambulace as the medics fought to intubate her and stanch the flow of blood from her many wounds._

_On arriving at the hospital she was rushed into the trauma suite where efforts to save her life were continued. The attending doctor quickly hooked her up to a respirator as preparations were made to ready the OR suite. Three times her heart went into V-fib, a potentially fatal dysrhythmia. Each time, the code team managed to shock her heart back to its normal rhythm. She would require hours of surgery to repair all the damage to her broken limbs and severed blood vessels. Given the amount of blood loss and the nature of her injuries, it would be a miracle if she made it out of the operating room alive._

Eric walked for what seemed like hours with the burden of the mysterious woman's limp form in his arms. Finally, he came to the spot he had been looking for. He laid her body gently on the floor of the tunnel, taking care to ease her head to the floor. He tentatively bent over her sleeping form and pressed his ear to her chest. Her heart was still beating and he could feel her breath warm against his forehead. She had survived the journey at least. Now, to find what he had come all this way for. Eric systematically ran his hands along the tunnel wall at chest level. His fingers found the subtle inconsistency in the mortar where he pressed with all his strength. The wall groaned and instantly a small opening appeared before him. Without hesitating any longer than it took to scoop his new charge up from the floor, Eric slipped into the abyss as the wall soundlessly slid shut. He walked on for several minutes before emerging into what appeared to be a large cave. Once again he was forced to put down his burden in order to fumble a match from his pocket and strike it against the sole of his shoe. The flickering light revealed a series of rooms styled similarly to his original lair except on aslightly smaller scale. In the distance one could hear the sound of babbling, moving water-the stream that fed the underground lake. Eric hurried to light the wall sconceone by one until the room was illuminated by their soft wavering glow.

He carefully laid the woman onto his bed and began to examine her wounds with as much analytical detachment as any doctor. Aside from the lacerations on her face and scalp the only other detectable injury was a deep seeping gash from her right thigh extending below her knee. He would need to attempt to clean these wounds and take measures to stop the bleeding. Her eyes began to dart rapidly back and forth under closed lids and she suddenly screamed out:

"Andrew! Why? Please! Don't ! Please..." the last part dying off in a tormented groan.

"Shh ...Andrew isn't here Madame. For now you are safe." he reassured her, not even certain if she could hear him. With that he turned on his heel and went to search the cupboards for suture material and boric acid. He made a mental note to look for his bottle of laudanum as she would probably need something for pain.

_Angelina had survived twelve grueling hours of surgery but she wasn't out of danger by any means. She had become septic after her operations and her kidneys were shutting down. Friends and coworkers gathered by her bedside in a desperate vigil. She had once been a nurse in this same hospital on the burn unit. Her compassion and dedication made her a favorite with the staff and patients alike. Her infectious laughter echoed through the corridors whenever she was on duty. No one would ever guessed the horrors she endured at home. She chose to keep this a secret as much to protecther husband as to preserve her dignity. Angelina was deeply ashamed that she couldn't help her husband or herself. She had no remaining family as she was an only child and her parents had long since passed away. In essence, all she had was Andrew and the fragile life they had constructed together. As a teenager Angelina had been an aspiring musician. She played the piano in the youth symphony. Through music she was able to let her soul soar. Playing for her was a way to release all her pent up emotions in a whirlwind of notes, giving them up to the surrounding air. When she performed she felt truly alive, but she knew her aspirations were loftier than reality. Upon graduation from high school she shelved her dreams of performing and committed herself to her nursing career. It wasn't until ten years later that she met and eventually married Andrew. Now, here she was lying comatose and helpless in a hospital bed. The irony was almost too painful to bear._

_As she lay deep in a coma, she became vaguely aware of a strange presence in the room with her. She sensed rather than heard a soft voice whisper to her:_  
><em>"The master is very proud of you. You have lived well, but it isn't your time yet. You have a choice to make. There is no right or wrong answer. You should feel honored-<em>_very few people ever get to choose"  
><em>  
><em>She suddenly had a vision of a bisecting pathway. One path was garishly lit with the cold, unfeeling, glaring bulbs of a hospital ward but the other appeared shrouded in darkness and mystery. The most beautiful, soulful music that she had ever heard emanated from the darker direction. Without so much as a second thought she chose to follow the sound of music. At that moment the steady beeping of the heart monitor changed into that one drawn out note that accompanies so many deaths.<em>

The wealth that Eric had amassed from his investments in Edison's Compagnie Continental and Pinguely's steam engine manufacturing had allowed him to purchase a house in Troyes, fifty miles southeast of Paris. Madame Giry and her daughter Meg were employed as house keeper and caretaker. It was the least he could do for them in the advent of the fire that destroyed the only home either of them had known. His old friend Nadir held the dubious position of front man for all Eric's business dealings.  
>Despite the indiscretions of the former opera ghost, Nadir still felt a deep sense of loyalty to Eric harking back to those long ago days in Persia.<p>

With his financial needs thus secured, Eric was able to devote his time to inventing, painting and composing. He presented his creations under the name E. C. Wraith finding the irony supremely amusing. For all intents and purposes, MSS. Wraith was one of the wealthiest, most successful men in France that nobody had ever seen! The house in Troyes was the perfect front from which to conduct business though he spent precious little time in the dwelling. He much preferred the solitude and anonymity of his underground hideaway.

Something inside him had slowly begun to change that fateful night of Don JuanTriumphant. For the first time in his wretched life Eric had experienced compassion from another human being. It awakened the shred of humanity that still existed deep within his core-a piece of himself that he had spent a life time trying to bury for fear of being vulnerable. It was this slow metamorphosis of the soul that allowed him to take pity on the woman he found in the shadows. A woman, who by the looks of her, was perhaps as broken physically and metaphorically as he. Eric looked down upon her now,drinking in every detail of her visage. He noted the way her light brown hair lay in haphazard wisps across her cheek. He so desperately wanted to brush the tendrils aside yet he refused to allow himself that level of intimacy. He did not wish to fall prey to any feelings for a female ever again. If his involvements with Christine had taught him anything it was that love equalled tremendous pain. This was a lesson he would not soon forget and a mistake he was loathe to repeat.

"Whoever this woman is, she certainly has been acquainted with her fair share ofphysical labor" he mused as he took in her muscular, lithe frame, vaguely tanned skin and work roughened hands. "Curious...very curious" he sighed. With a shrug of resignation he set about the task of treating the mystery woman's wounds. " My dear, I'm afraid this will hurt...considerably. My apologies.". He whispered.

He began the arduous process of cleansing and stitching her wounds. The gash on her leg already had the angry reddened look of infection to it. He cleaned as much debris from it as he could before attempting to sew the lips of the laceration together. She cried out in agony and her eyes flew open as Eric's needle pierced her skin. He had to throw himself across her body to hold her steady-no easy feat while trying to hold asuturing needle.

"Madame, I am trying to HELP you, though heaven knows why. Unless of course you prefer to bleed to death, in which case I will have to ask you to kindly do so somewhere else! Otherwise, I would appreciate it if you would at least ATTEMPT to hold still!" he fumed.

"You should have just left me to die." she groaned

"Don't think I wasn't tempted" ,he sneered, "but your carcass would have drawn the rats. By the way, do you have a name or shall I continue to call you Madame?"

"I...yes...I suppose I must" she faltered. "I'm afraid I really can't remember much of anything." I recall a strange sensation of falling endlessly. I heard a voice telling me to choose...and then there was a man singing...and now I'm here". Consequently, just where is here?"

Eric narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "Did she send you to look for me?"

"She who? What in the name of God are you talking about?" she snapped.

"Do not play me for a fool! Did the Vicomtess send you? Answer me at once!" he demanded.

"Sir, I don't have a bloody CLUE who you are speaking of! What part of me not knowing where I am, how the hell I got here, or even WHO I am escapes you?"

Eric was nonplussed by her impudence. No one, male or female, had ever dared to speak to him this way and it was oddly arousing. He found the long dormant feelings beginning to stir within him disconcerting.

"Never mind. You're obviously telling the truth." he grumbled. "There now. You must be careful not to disturb these stitches lest you wish to endure the process again. Drink this for the pain." he said as he held the vial of laudanum to her lips. She drank the drug eagerly for the pain was becoming unbearable. She reached out hesitantly, touching her fingers to his wrist. "Thank you, sir." she murmured. "Angelina. I believe my name is Angelina."

"You may call me Eric." he replied softly as he exited the room. He needed to clean up and clear his head. This was too much for one evening and suddenly he was exhausted. As he made his way to the water closet he caught a glimpse of his mask perched on an end table. His breath caught in his throat as he realized that he hadn't been wearing it. After all, he hadn't exactly been expecting company. It suddenly dawned on him that Angelina hadn't reacted to his face. She didn't so much as acknowledge his deformity. Perhaps her sight was impaired as well. He couldn't begin to comprehend it and he was much too tired to try. One thing was certain, the mask was going back on.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you for taking time to read and follow this story. As I'm sure you can tell, this is my first effort at writing anything of this nature. I had considerable difficulties with compatibility issues between my iPad and the uploader, hence the first chapter being so long. I had originally planned on splitting it up into smaller chapters, but gave up and sent the whole mess together.

On a side note, I just wanted to mention that my Eric looks like the phantom from the 2004 movie adaptation. I liked the soulfulness that Mr. Butler projected through his eyes and mannerisms. I imagine him singing like Hugh Panaro or Ben Owens. My inspiration comes from the aforementioned movie, the New York stage production, and Susan Kay's novel blended and topped with my own imagination. Now, on with our tale:

Angelina awoke from her drug induced stupor days later, foggy from the laudanum, and in considerable pain.  
>"I feel like I've been trampled." she thought to herself. Looking down, she noticed that at some point she had changed into a man's nightshirt but she couldn't recall when. Gingerly, she eased her legs over the edge of the bed and had to pause as a wave of dizziness threatened to overcome her. Once the black spots retreated from her vision she tentatively touched her feet to the floor,testing their willingness to hold her up. She pressed one hand to the wall to steady herself as she slowly inched her way to the door.<p>

Just as she reached the handle, the door swung open to reveal a man dressed in black trousers and a crisp, white shirt. The first three buttons of the shirt were undone allowing her a tantalizing glimpse of his bare, sinewy chest. His hair was slicked back meticulously and one half of his face was covered by a stark white mask.

"Eric? Is that you?" she asked.

" Of course it is. Who else were you expecting?" he growled."Why are you out of bed? I thought I told you to be careful of those stitches"

"...but your hair seemed lighter ...and why are you wearing that peculiar mask? "

"Perhaps there is damage to your brain in addition to the rest of your body!" he roared. "Do you not recall seeing my face last night? Did it not repulse you Madame? Give you nightmares per chance? The face of a MONSTER! This face that has been nothing but A CURSE!" he spat out.

"Yes, I saw a man with some sort of disfigurement to half of his face. Did I find it repulsive? No. Was I frightened? Obviously not-not of your face at least." The only thing I find frightening are your mood swings, Sir!" Angelina stood inches from his face, breath heaving from her sudden outburst, her hands clenched into fists by her side. "Now, if you please, remove that ridiculous piece of leather. I can only imagine how uncomfortable it must be for you. I would like to at least _see_ who is shouting at me!" She wisely refrained from mentioning the hair piece-best not to press her luck.

"On the contrary, if you were burdened with a face like this you would know the comfort that the mask affords." The rage seemed to have burned itself out leaving behind only shame. "Please forgive my outburst." he hissed sarcastically. "I merely came in to check on you and bring you some clothing that I went to considerable trouble to procure. You thankless chit." the last part being said under his breath.

Angelina fought to suppress a nervous giggle as she realized the absurdity of the situation. Here she was presumably standing in this man's nightshirt with no idea where she was or how she got here in the first place-and she was arguing with him to boot! He was right. She probably was brain damaged.

Eric ventured a glance at her as he turned to leave the room. She was beginning to ge tunder his skin in a discomforting way. He would not allow this to happen. He suddenly felt as though he were suffocating.

"I'm going out for a short time. Try not to get into any trouble" he sneered as he walked out and slammed the door hard enough to knock a picture off the wall.

" THANKS FOR THE CLOTHES!" she yelled sarcastically at the door as she flung herself back down on the bed. There was something vaguely familiar about this man, something teasing at the corners of her mind just out of reach. He was infuriating but at the same time endearing, in a way. There was a feeling of desolation about him that pulled at her heart. His flagrant temper, however, frightened her more deeply than she cared to admit. " You could have at least offered me something else for the pain." she pouted.

Angelina waited until she was certain he had left before rising again. Quietly, she limped across the room and opened the door a crack. The sitting room was deserted. She marveled at the rich brocade tapestries and the ornate furniture adorning the small living space as she made her way down the hall. Whoever Eric was, he certainly was a man of taste! Down the hall to her right was a room with the door slightly ajar. Angelina peeked in quickly to make sure it was empty before venturing inside. Along one wall stood several easels with pictures in various states of completion. At the back of the room stood a beautiful piano forte with sheets of music scattered along the polished top. The instrument drew her attention inexplicably as if unseen hands were compelling her forwards. She sat down at the bench and hesitantly placed her fingers on the keys, completely entranced. Her fingers began to move over the keyboard by their own accord, caressing the notes lovingly, releasing them into the atmosphere. This was the music that had lodged itself in her brain, the accompaniment to her nightmares of free falling into an abyss. She lost all sense of time as notes spun on and on, dancing and swirling into the ephemera. A sharp intake of breath behind her brought her back to her senses.

Eric had walked to the underground stream in an effort to clear his head when he heard the strains of "Point of No Return" wafting across the gloom. He charged back to the house and burst inside to find Angelina sitting at his piano with a dazed look in her eyes.

"How do you know that piece? " he asked incredulously. "The score was destroyed!  
>Were you in the audience that night?" he panted, tears forming in his eyes.<p>

"Eric, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any harm. This music has been burned into my soul. I hear it in my dreams-it haunts me! I don't understand what it is but I think it's what led me here."

"That was her song! You have no right!" he cried out as a sob escaped his throat.

Angelina reached up to wipe away the lone tear that coursed down his cheek. He stiffened noticeably and caught her wrist in midair.

"Leave me...please." he whispered.  
>Confused and hurt, Angelina stumbled back to her room. She lay down, knees pulled painfully to her chest, curling herself into a tight ball. "What just happened?" None of this makes any sense to her. " Who the hell am I and what am I doing here? For the love of God, I don't even know where <em>here<em> is. " she agonized as she began sobbing in great uncontrolled spasms of grief and confusion. Eventually, she cried herself into a deep, fitful sleep.

"I should have left her to die in the shadows!" Eric stormed. " Damn her, that little impertinent WENCH! Why does she torment me so?" he cried out to the empty room.

Tears which he had kept at bay in front of Angelina now streamed down his cheeks unhindered. She was wearing down the protective fortress that he had painstakingly erected around his heart. He detested being vulnerable! He spent a lifetime cultivating a pretense of aloofness and indifference. It was his only defense against the cruelties life had shown him. Now, this woman threatened to bring the whole charade down around him. He had made this mistake before, and had paid dearly for it. Fate had been a heartless mistress indeed. Why now? He had finally made peace with Christine's betrayal. He admitted his blame in driving her away. He accepted that his desperate obsession had blinded him to reality, had even driven him to temporary madness. She had been far too young and much too naive to see beyond the pain and hopelessness that drove his actions. The entire situation had been doomed from it's very beginning, but that was in the past! He had all but convinced himself that he had become immune to useless feelings such as love and loss. A life of near solitude would have assured that, but now fate had literally dropped this woman into his midst, effectively destroying the peace of his perfect little orderly world. How could someone like him ever expect to be looked upon as anything but a curiosity, an outrage to humanity to be mocked and feared? He could not bear to have his soul crushed again.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera. Most characters belong to and are based off those attributed to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Leroux, or Susan Kaye.

Chistine and Raoul: Journey into Madness

Christine was three months in her grave, and with her their unborn child. Their **only **child. Raoul, her husband, was completely unhinged by grief. "How could this be? How could fate be so cruel?" he lamented out loud though no one was present to witness his grief. He had been so desperately in love with her, they had overcome such adversity to be together, only to have it all taken away without warning. They had led such a charmed life upon settling in Sweden. She seemed to blossom under his doting devotion. They had finally conceived a child and it seemed that they were finally leading the joyful existence that destiny had meant for them. Then, like a thief in the night, the typhoid sickness came to her, invading her lungs, stealing her breath. Just like that, her life was snuffed out.

In the days following her interment, Raoul wandered about like a lost soul. He lay in their bed holding her clothes tightly to himself, trying to capture any remnant of her that remained behind. He searched through drawers and closets looking for pieces of memorabilia that would prove her existence. He didn't want these empty reminders, he wanted HER, whole and restored! During one of these foraging expeditions he came across a locked diary. He found one of her hairpins, sprung open the catch, and began to read his wife's most secret thoughts. Would that he had never discovered this treasure! There in her final entries he read the following:

"I learned today from my dearest Meg that Eric still lives and is in fact benefactor to her and Madame Giry. Oh what balm it is to my troubled soul, that I may go to my grave content that he is safe. Leaving him that day was the hardest thing I've ever been asked to do, and may God have mercy on my soul for the pain I may have caused him. He is always in my heart and I pray that he finds happiness. I only wish I could have seen him one last time"

Raoul sucked in his breath in horror and astonishment. How dare she deceive him like this? Was it not enough that he just lost his reason for living, but to learn that her love had been tainted? This was more than his fevered mind could handle, he was no longer in control of his thoughts. All he could focus on was exacting revenge in any way possible. The damnable Phantom needed to pay for sullying his memory of Christine. All he could think of was killing Eric, who was now the prime target of his anger, and if anyone knew where he could be found it was that damnable Persian fellow, Nadir.

Raoul secured passage back to Paris and finalized his plans. Once in the city he would pay a visit to Eric's old acquaintance and make him an offer he couldn't refuse. The Giry's would make excellent bargaining chips. With his success thus assured, Raoul left for Paris to set his plans in motion.

The slow rail journey from Stockholm to Paris gave Raoul time to perfect the details of his little scheme. Once in Paris he would inquire as to the whereabouts of Nadir, or the Daroga as he was sometimes referred to. Since Raoul still had many friends among the local gendarmes it should not be particularly difficult to obtain an address. He would then pay one of the locals to discretely keep surveillance on the man's residence and report back with the details of the Persian's daily routine. In merely a few days, Raoul was ready to institute the second phase of his plan.

Armed with the knowledge of Nadir's daily comings and goings, Raoul lay in wait for him. He knew he would be returning alone to his little apartment in the financial district any time now. As the unsuspecting man fumbled with his door key, Raoul stepped from the shadows and accosted him. He held one hand over Nadir's mouth preventing the man from raising an alarm, and jammed a pistol in his back with the other.

"Be very quiet and listen carefully. I have it on good authority that your friend Eric is alive and well. I DEMAND that you take me to him at once!" he hissed.

Raoul loosened his hand from Nadir's mouth to allow him to respond.

"Who is it that makes these absurd demands?"

"It is Eric's worst nightmare, Daroga, it is Raoul De Chagny and I seek vengeance. If you refuse to cooperate, you sign Madame and Mademoiselle Giry's death warrants. Unless you wish to be responsible for their demise, you WILL obey!"

"Very well, Vicomte. I will take you only if you promise to leave the Giry women unharmed. May Allah take mercy on all of us. Come this way."

" Do not try anything foolish, old man, as this gun will remain pointed at your head to insure your friendly compliance."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own POTO or any of its associated characters. The lyrics used in this chapter belong to Sara McLachlin from her song,'Mercy'. I felt this song was most appropriate to the subject matter.

Eric was still pacing back and forth in his music room, fuming over having his life upended when his sulking was disturbed by the sound of a piercing scream from Anglina's bedchamber. In two strides he was across the room, moving with leonine grace. He rushed down he hall and threw open her door to find her huddled against the wall with the sheets twisted up in her fists. Her eyes were wide and wildly rolling, her hair in disarray around her sweat streaked face.

"What is it, what happened? Tell me at once!" He glanced around the room frantic to find the cause of her dramatic outburst.

"It was terrible. I...I think I was dreaming, but I can't be sure." Her eyes glazed over as she spoke and her voice took on a dreamlike quality. "There was a man, somehow I think we were married. He...he..." Her voice broke in anguish. "He was trying to _kill _me! If you could have seen the hatred in those eyes, those terrible eyes. It was pure unadulterated evil. He hurt me somehow, and I was dying...but then there was a voice offering me a choice...and I heard this singing. It was like a strange angel was singing for me and I knew I needed to follow it's voice. Then you found me here. Oh Eric, It was so REAL!"

By now she was shaking so terribly from fear that her teeth were actually chattering in a staccato rhythm. She looked so pitiful, like a little mouse trying desperately to become so small as to disappear inside itself. The sight of her so beaten, so utterly lost and dehumanized broke through the rest of his defenses. He pulled up a chair alongside the bed and took her hands in his, grazing his lips lightly against her knuckles. Very quietly he began to sing to her, his voice so ethereal that the sound wrapped itself around her, blanketing her in it's richness. Her breathing eased and gradually she relaxed as he sang:

"Mercy-pure and simple

Longing -cold and hollow

With sweet breath you'd come to warm me

But I held on too hard to only a memory

You lie there on swollen ground

Deserted in your heart

Still longing for what yesterday's lost

And for all that tomorrow might bring

The passion lost-taken, stolen

The dreams www had and we shared-shattered, broken

With kind words you'd come to soothe me

But I go blind and filled with fear

Would send you away from me

There is no hope in regretting now

All the pain that we could not see

We both knew what we wanted

And we took it believing it free

And we took it believing it free."

His aching lyrics and mellifluous voice laid bare her heart's secret torment and simultaneously provided succor to her deep emotional scars. This man, whom she barely knew, saw into her soul and understood the vast desolation of her pain. The pain of a love turned brutal, the agony of the ultimate betrayal. In this moment she knew that a bond had been forged between them-linking their souls unconditionally. She wanted him to embrace her, shield her from the past which she kept getting nightmare glimpses of.

"Hold me, Eric, please." she begged.

Eric could not resist her plaintive cry and wrapped Angelina in his arms, murmuring sweet assurances into her hair.

" Rest my dear, I will allow no further harm to come to you". He meant this with all his heart and would surely kill any man who tried to inflict injury upon her. No one else would ever cause her this much pain as long as he drew breath.

They sat thusly for several minutes before the ringing of an alarm bell broke the spell. Eric immediately jumped up sensing danger. The alarm was a device he had implemented to warn him of a breech in the tunnel system as well as to herald the arrival of the Daroga on the days of their specified meetings. Nadir was not due for a fortnight, thus he knew an intruder was in their midst. Eric stalked back to his room to retrieve his pistol and Punjab lasso, his favored weapon of choice.

"Angelina, stay put in the house until I return" he commanded.

"What's wrong? Where are you going with that gun?"

"Someone has tripped my alarm and I mean to see who it is"

" But a gun? Is that really necessary?"

Eric sighed, " I was a wanted man with a hefty price on my head, and there is no shortage of ner'do wells who would gladly kill me for the reward money should I prove to still be alive."

"Then I'm coming with you!" she cried stubbornly.

"Absolutely not! Stay here as I told you. I would not have you endanger yourself!" With that, Eric slipped out the front door and silently made his way through the labyrinth towards the outer sanctum.

Angelina was not about to be left behind when Eric's life may be at stake. She waited until she heard the snick of the front door closing before sneaking out to see which direction he had taken. As an afterthought, she grabbed a silver candlestick from the foyer, testing it's heft for usefulness as a weapon.

"This will have to do, there's nothing else for it" she mused as she crept along the tunnel making certain to keep close to the walls and just out of sight. Her leg ached and the stitches pulled against her efforts to keep up with Eric's swift progress. More than once she came dangerously close to stepping in one of his many traps-sometimes fate is kind to the ignorant. She stopped short and had to stifle a scream as she heard a man cry out in the dark:

"Eric! Go back, it's it's a trap! He means to kill you! He threatened to kill the Giry's if I didn't bring him to you. Please forgive me!"

There was a fleshy thump followed by a groan and she could just make out the outline of a body as it slumped to the ground. Terrified, she pressed her back to the wall and inched her way along it's dank expanse hiding in the shadows until she had circled around behind Eric. She could now see and a strange man pointing a gun at his head.

"Vicomte, to what do I owe this honor? " His voice cold and dripping with sarcasm as he raised his own gun towards Raoul. "Your quarrel is with me. I suggest you leave the Giry's and Nadir out of it, old _friend."_

" You filthy beast! How dare you continue to breathe life, you disgusting aberration! How is it that a monster such as yourself is allowed to exist when Christine is but a rotting corps under the ground. I should have finished you all this years ago in the cemetery, but no, I granted you mercy for _her_ sake. Well, now she is dead and there is nothing to stop me from sending you to the same fate! She _still_ cared for you, did you know that? After all that you did, she still longed for her Angel. Pah! Now at least you may be together in death."

Eric's stoic facade faltered and his gun hand began to tremble as the realization of Christine's death began to sink in. Angelina saw Eric's resolve crumbling and took the opportunity to pounce on Raoul's back, pummeling him with the candlestick. She cried in fury born of so many years living in fear. Her desperation and wrath poured forth like black venom leaking from a scabrous infected tumor. Over and over she beat at him with a vengeance heretofore unknown to her. Raoul, taken by surprise , fired his gun blindly while launching himself backwards against the tunnel wall in an attempt to scrape his attacker off his back. The bullet went wide and penetrated Eric's right shoulder causing him to drop his pistol. Raoul had managed to peel Angelina off his back and threw her roughly to the ground. He now stood over her one foot pinning her to the tunnel floor and in his madness trying to decide whether or not to shoot her or knock her brains loose.

Deftly, with his remaining good hand, Eric managed to free the lasso from his trouser pocket and whip it out at Raoul's head. The lasso made it's mark, and he pulled tightly until the Vicomte's choked and ragged gasps ceased, his body jerking and falling to the ground.

Angelina ran to Eric alarmed by the blossoming red wetness on his white shirt, her own leg dripping blood as the struggle with Raoul had caused the stitches to pull free. She ripped a strip of cloth from the hem of her shift, wadded it up and pressed it against Eric's bullet wound. His face was a study of conflicting emotions. Anger, fear, and grief battled for dominance in his riveting gaze.

"Why did you follow me?" he growled. " Did I not order you to stay behind and wait? Do you realize you could have been killed, you stupid, reckless fool!"

"How dare you chastise me! I came because I care for you and I couldn't stand by and do nothing , you arrogant bastard!"

A small smirk formed at the edges of his mouth. She was very attractive when furious, and the brash way she stood up to him amused him. He swallowed his pride and spoke up gently " Would you help me get Nadir back to the house? I'm afraid I only have the use of one arm at the moment."

Together they bent over the body of the unconscious Nadir. He was breathing thankfully, but it would take a while before he came around. They each took hold of one side of him, draping his arms over their shoulders, Eric on his left so that he could support him with his un-injured side. The journey back home was long and arduous with Eric carefully picking his way around the myriad of traps. They were both exhausted by the time they finally made it back and had settled Nadir onto the divan with a cold compress. A large, angry lump which was steadily rising on the top of his head.

Eric collapsed into his bed weakened from blood loss and the long trek through the tunnels. Angelina came to him and slipped his soaked shirt off and began to examine his wound. The bullet had entered two inches below the clavicle and had lodged there. She made haste to search the house for the materials she would need to treat him. She returned in minutes with a bottle of whiskey, a hunting knife, boric acid, a sheet which she could tear strips from for bandaging, catgut suture, a sewing needle and a small vial of laudanum. Not exactly medicine in it's highest form, but it would have to do. She lit two large candles and brought them to rest on the mantle close by. Expertly, she heated the blade of the knife in the candle flames in an attempt to sterilize it. Next she poured whisky over the blade and into the gaping hole in Eric's shoulder. The latter action eliciting an outburst of cursing from her patient.

"Bear with me, and for God's sake hold still. I have to get the bullet out and I'd rather not nick an artery."

She placed the tip of the knife into the wound and deftly pried the bullet from his flesh, causing new freshets of blood to spill forth. She cut strips from the sheet and folded them into squares which she pressed against the wound to stanch the bleeding. Next, she sprinkled the hole generously with boric acid and carefully sewed the edges of the wound together. Throughout her ministrations Eric lay stoically, watching her with wonder.

" Here, take some of this" her tone brooked no argument as she held the narcotic to his lips and he drank greedily. She then took a swig herself before bending to the task of replacing her own stitches. Spent from the evenings activity she cleaned up her tools and turned to leave, intent on retiring to her room. Eric's hand snaked out and grabbed her around the wrist.

" Please stay for a while...if you will." he whispered.

She debated for a moment, torn by the implications of what had occurred over the course of the last few hours. Frankly, she was a bit nauseated by the realization that they **both **possessed a propensity towards violence under extreme circumstances.

"I will stay for a bit, but realize that eventually you owe me an explanation, Eric."

He let his breath out in a deep sigh of resignation. "Yes, I suppose I do after all that has happened. The man in my living room is Nadir, my oldest friend and business partner. The man who's life I took is Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny. He is my oldest enemy. Years ago I fell in love with a young girl who lived in the opera house above us. Her name was Christine Daee and I was her tutor. Unable to show my detestable face, I came to her under the guise of the Angel of Music. Whenever I came to her it was behind the protection of a two way mirror in her dressing room. I was completely and utterly obsessed with her voice and beauty. Finally I got the courage to show myself to her, but she unmasked me and was repulsed and terrified by what she saw. In the mean time our dear Vicomte, who had known her since childhood, returned to claim her as his own. They became lovers and he convinced her to betray me and publicly unmask me during the performance of my opera, Don Juan Triumphant. I avoided capture by cutting the chandelier loose, grabbing hold of Christine and dropping through a trap door to these cellars. The Vicomte found us and in my crazed, jealous state, I captured him with my lasso and threatened to kill him if Christine didn't marry me. At that point Christine came to me, took pity on me, and reluctantly kissed me. I saw what a sacrifice she had made, and I came to my senses and let them go. I came to the realization of how much she loved her precious little boy, and that she cared for me more as a parental figure. They married shortly after and moved back to her homeland. Today is the first I've heard of her since she left, and it grieves me terribly to hear of her untimely death. Apparently, her death was the cause of the Vicomte 's descent into madness which in turn led him to seek me out to finish me off as well.

She sat in stunned silence through this narrative, her eyes riveted to his wan face. The look of sorrow in his eyes moved her to tears.

"Eric, I'm so sorry. You've lost her twice now."

"She was never really mine to lose the first time. It took me several year to realize that truth, but the sadness that I feel at her passing is no less profound."

Tentatively, Anglina sat down on the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around Eric, cradling his head against her bosom. He stiffened in response to the foreign gesture, but as she stroked his hair and brushed her lips against his forehead he slowly began to melt into her embrace. He clung to her as an odd mixture of sadness and lust overtook him. Slowly he raised his head to gaze into Angelina's eyes. She placed her hands on the back of his head and drew his face close to hers, kissing him tenderly on the lips. A low moan escaped Eric's throat as he deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue. At last, he pulled back and looked questioningy into her eyes-a looked that begged to find acceptance, and he slowly lifted his mask. She responded in turn by trailing a kiss down his ravaged cheek and nose ending once more at his lips, consuming his mouth with a passion so heated that it took his breath away.

"You don't find me hideous? " He breathed incredulously.

"I find you overbearing and infuriating at times, but I certainly do NOT find you hideous." she smirked wickedly. "Unfortunately, you are in no condition to pursue this tract any further lest I cause you more injury, my dear." She sighed as she began to rise from the bed.

He reached out again, grasping her forearm and pulled her back down beside him. "Would ypu consent to sleep here tonight next to me" he purred, "Providing I promise to behave like a gentleman, of course?"

"I'm not so sure I trust myself Eric"

"Rest assured my lady, your honor will be preserved this evening. Tomorrow, on the other hand, ...is a different story."

Angelina curled up against his side laying her head on his lightly muscled chest and sighed in contentment. His heart beat pounded in response to her closeness. Thank goodness for the laudanum or he would never be able to keep his promise, he thought to himself


End file.
